


Remembrance

by anamia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Female Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/pseuds/anamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a year since the end of the War To End All Wars claimed her boys and Musichetta has done her best to keep going. One evening she runs into Bahorel’s laughing mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I apologize for any historical inaccuracy. Dianne is probably slightly ahead of her time, fashion-wise, but it fits her character as I've imagined it.

The woman stepped into the Musain twenty minutes before closing time, ignoring the way nearly all the men in the room turn to stare at her with the ease of one long accustomed to such attentions. Her auburn hair was cut daringly short, displaying almost garish earrings, and her emerald green dress was clearly designed to shock and draw attention. She wore visible makeup, highlighting large grey eyes. An actress, Musichetta thought a touch disdainfully. She picked up another glass to clean, keeping half an eye on the newcomer out of habit.

The woman made her way over to the bar and perched on one of the stools, arranging herself so as to best display her ample physical charms. It seemed an instinctive reflex, born from years of performance. Musichetta set her glass down and raised an inquiring eyebrow at the actress. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"A glass of red wine," the woman said. Her eyes followed Musichetta as she poured the requested drink. Musichetta, who was made of stronger stuff than most, did not shrink under the appraising stare. She set the glass down in front of the woman, who took a sip and then leaned back, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. Her eyes had not yet left Musichetta.

"Was it a husband or a brother?" she asked, nodding towards the black armband Musichetta wore, for all that her boys had perished nearly a year ago. She was not the only one still mourning, nor was this woman the first to ask the question, but it made her tense anyway and force back a wave of pain-mixed anger.

"Neither," she said tightly.

"Ah," the actress said knowingly, and blew out a long puff of smoke. Muischetta took small comfort in the knowledge that this woman, at least, would be in no position to shame her for her choice of relationships, and firmly picked up her cleaning rag again, unwilling to continue this conversation any longer.

The actress took another swallow of wine, drumming carefully manicured nails against the bar. "I lost one of those too," she said after a moment, lips twisting into a slight smile of remembrance. "He was a stubborn fool, but he was mine."

Musichetta nodded. "I am sorry for your loss," she said.

The actress made a made a slightly dismissive gesture, smoke trailing from the end of her cigarette. "He went out in a blaze of glory, like he'd always wanted to. Can't ask for anything more than that." She looked around the pub, head tilting slightly to one side. "You might have known him, actually. He lived around here. Brawler type, loud and fond of drinking and committing crimes against fashion." She laughed.

Musichetta started to deny it, then paused. A half-remembered cocky grin floated through her mind accompanied by the distant sound of a booming laugh. With it came a much more solid memory of Joly in leather trousers and she was caught between laughter at the memory and pain at its context. "Did he have a name?" she asked, a bit more bruskly than she'd intended.

"Bahorel," the actress said. She drained her glass and pushed it towards Musichetta for a refill. "To his friends, at least."

Muischetta managed to pour the wine without letting her hands shake too much. She hadn't thought about him in months, hadn't let herself think about _any_ of them in months.

"You knew him then?" The actress' voice was gentler than it had been, almost compassionate.

Musichetta nodded. "He came here often," she said, pulling herself back together with effort. "A troublemaker most of the time."

The actress laughed. "He was that," she agreed. "And yours? What was he like? I imagine you wouldn't tolerate a fool."

"They," Musichetta corrected almost despite herself. The actress' eyebrows crept up ever so slightly but she did not comment. "And they weren't fools by a long shot. One of them -- Joly he was called -- was training to be a doctor, and the other was a pilot."

"Fitting," the actress said. "With him being the eagle." When Musichetta gave her a startled look she laughed slightly. "Trust me, with the amount of I heard about all Bahorel's friends I could probably write their biographies." She sobered. "I'll admit, I thought it was you but I didn't want to presume." She inhaled another lungful of smoke and let it out slowly, turning her head so that it did not all go directly into Musichetta's face. "I'm Dianne."

"Musichetta," Musichetta replied, and warily shook the offered hand.

"You're closing soon, right?" Dianne asked. Musichetta nodded. "You look like you deserve a night out," Dianne said. "I've got tickets to a show tonight, and I've never liked going out alone. Would you care to come with me? Drinks on me, of course."

Musichetta hesitated, surprised to realize that she did actually want to spend more time with this woman. Deeply ingrained practicality peeked out through Dianne's carefully manicured outer shell and Musichetta could not help being curious about the kind of woman who could not only have kept up with Bahorel but caused him to wax poetically about her after a few drinks too many. She nodded. "I'd like that," she said, and Dianne grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr mirror](http://kingedmundsroyalmurder.tumblr.com/post/50861463203/remembrance)


End file.
